how old are you?

AUTHOR: Oriane

EDITOR: CCBO.

TRIGGER WARNING: DEPRESSION

i cannot recall

if my birthday was hours,

days, or years ago.

i can only remember

the endless fall

of what it felt like when the world was ours

and when the clock’s hands went slow

just like the love i thought i’d keep forever.

is forever real?

the concept of immortality—

a rational dream,

a foolish impossibility?

it seems that i have stopped to feel,

since the second that time had caught me

in its clutches, in my timeless screams

of childish responsibility.

my face is filled with youth

but my soul is weary with wrinkles.

a baby’s back, curved under the age.

it’s been a couple of years since i found the truth

about how love isn’t something that mingles.

a crippled hand, afraid of what’s on the next page.

for sometimes i do worry

that i am sadness in human skin,

when i see babies and trees

that are afraid of me

and the elderly that lay on their beds, withering,

speaking to me, voices fragile as a breeze.

i am not scared of a last breath

because all i do is survive.

one is not afraid of death

when they aren’t truly alive.

how old are you is no longer a question

of consideration

when no longer matters to you the years that have passed

but the days that are left.